The Upside of Unrequited

  “This looks like it was painted by a fetus,” she grumbles.

  Mina rests her chin on Cassie’s shoulder. “I like it,” she says.

  Cassie smiles. “You would.”

  “So, you guys went to a party last night?” Olivia asks.

  “Yeah, it was all right. And you just got back from Philly, right?” Mina asks.

  I give her a huge internal high five. I cannot believe how quickly she just brought the conversation around to Philly. She is truly the child of psychologists.

  “Yeah, I got back last night,” Olivia says, and then she sighs.

  Cassie jumps in. “You okay? What’s up?”

  “Well.” Olivia shrugs. “Yeah. So, Evan broke up with me.”

  “Oh, Livvy.”

  “Yeah.” She gives me this wavery smile.

  “Oh my God. What happened?”

  She shakes her head calmly. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Then she shrugs again.

  Then she bursts into tears.

  “That fucker,” says Cassie.

  And then Olivia tells us everything. “I was just going to stay until Wednesday. And, like, I don’t know.” She sniffs. “Everything was normal, for the most part. Like, I guess he was acting sort of distant, but I didn’t realize it at the time, you know? Just in hindsight.”

  “This was at his parents’ house?” Cassie asks.

  “Yeah.” She nods. She takes a deep breath. “Yup, I mean. His parents were there, his sister was there, so it wasn’t like there was drama.”

  Evan Schulmeister’s parents. I’m pretty curious to know what they’re like. Also, maybe this is really nosy, but a part of me wonders how this all works. Like, what happens when you visit your long-distance boyfriend at his parents’ house? Do you just not have sex? Or do you risk it and hope his parents don’t bust in? Because something tells me Evan Schulmeister’s family is very, very involved. Though that’s strictly speculation. And it’s clearly beside the point.

  But then again:

  “Did you have sex?” Cassie asks matter-of-factly.

  Olivia blushes. “I mean, yeah.”

  “So he had sex with you and then he dumped you.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I will fucking destroy him,” says Cassie, and Mina nods solemnly.

  “I don’t even understand,” I say.

  Olivia fidgets with her paintbrush. “I don’t either. Everything was fine, you know? He asked if I could stay until Friday, so I even rearranged my work schedule . . .”

  Cassie practically hisses. “This is so fucked up.”

  “And I guess it was because he was planning to break up with me, but hadn’t worked up the nerve yet? Like he needed an extension.”

  “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

  Across the store, the two little girls and their mom look up from their piggy banks abruptly.

  “Shit. Sorry.” Cassie drops her voice to a whisper.

  “It’s fine,” Olivia says. “Yeah. I’m not even kidding. So, yesterday morning, he comes into the guest room with tea and a bagel and everything, and I thought it was sweet. He’d never made me breakfast in bed before, you know? But then he literally waits until my mouth is full of bagel and says, ‘So I wanted to talk to you.’ And I’m like, ‘Okay.’ And he says, ‘I don’t think I’m ready to be exclusive.’”

  “Jesus Christ,” Cassie says. “You’ve only been dating since eighth fucking grade.”

  “I know.” Olivia shrugs.

  “So then what?”

  “I mean, it’s not like I was going to argue with him.”

  “I cannot fucking believe this.”

  “Oh, there’s more,” Olivia says. “So, I’m basically quiet this whole time, and he keeps saying he’s very concerned that I’m not reacting.”

  “Which is bullshit,” Mina interjects.

  “Right? So he finally says he’s going to leave me alone to process this.”

  “Ugh.” Cassie snorts.

  “Except right before he leaves, he seriously turns to me and says, ‘I just want you to know we can still hook up.’”

  This makes me gasp. “He did NOT.”

  “Oh, he did.”

  “Fucking Schulmeister,” says Cassie. “Tell him I’ll hook him up with my fucking fist. This motherfucking douchebag.”

  Holy shit, I forgot how terrifying Cassie is when she’s really, truly angry. I don’t think I’ve seen her like this since middle school. Since the boner-deflating womp womp womp guys. And I guess that’s the thing about Cassie. She has zero tolerance for this kind of cruelty. She will smack boys down, with no hesitation.

  It’s kind of heroic. I kind of love that about her.

  And now she catches my eye, maybe by accident, and I feel my lips tug upward. I can’t help it.

  She smiles back. Just a little.

  And I feel this twinge of relief.

  Cassie’s already gone when I wake up on Sunday, but my moms talk me into going to the farmers’ market. So, I wander down there on my own. It’s one of those days when the crowds are sort of overwhelming. I claim the end of a bench and sit cross-legged, fidgeting with my friendship bracelets.

  There are little kids everywhere, wandering among the booths of vegetables and freshly cut flowers. It’s the kind of thing that normally makes me feel really nostalgic.

  Today, I’m mostly just tired.

  So now I’m officially that person sitting on a bench in perfect weather, surrounded by neighbors, zoned out on my iPhone.

  I text Abby. Did you hear about Schulmeister? Angry-face emoji.

  And then I pull up my photo of Olivia’s plate and text it to Reid before I can talk myself out of it. So, my friend Olivia painted this. You love it, right?

  Okay, there’s something terrifying about typing the word love in a text to a boy. Even in this utterly neutral, dragon-related context. I mean, now I can’t stop looking at it. It’s as if I typed it in bold, with a heart for the O.

  Oh, I totally love it, he writes back immediately.

  And then, a moment later: How’s the farmers’ market?

  Okay. Wait.

  He texts again: Psst: look up!

  And it’s him. He’s right here. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

  “Getting vegetables?” he says, his voice rising like a question. He hoists up a reusable grocery bag to show me.

  “Right.” I smile.

  God, he just looks so Reid. He’s wearing brown shorts and a Game of Thrones shirt—but it’s a totally different Game of Thrones shirt, which means he clearly has a collection of them. And his sneakers. Are so, so white. There’s this feeling in my stomach like ribbon curling.

  “Hey, guess what,” I say quickly.

  Of course he actually tries to guess. “You found a tiny chocolate chicken inside a Mini Egg.”

  I laugh. “Um, no.”

  “That is a shame.” He sits beside me on the bench. “So, what is it?”

  “What is what?”

  “What am I guessing?”

  “Oh! Now it feels anticlimactic. It’s just, I realized something the other night that made me think of you.”

  “What?”

  “Have you ever noticed that dragon rhymes with flagon?”

  “Um. Yes,” he says, smiling.

  “I guess it seemed funnier on Friday,” I say. “Told you it was anticlimactic.”

  “I think it’s climactic!”

  Climactic. Okay, that word. Jesus Christ. It can’t be possible to blush this hard. I can’t keep acting like this around him.

  “Hey, I have a question,” he says suddenly. He clears his throat. “Do you feel like working today?”

  “Oh. Sure. Do you need me to cover your shift?” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

  “No, I just want company.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And,” he adds, “I’ll pay you in Mini Eggs.”

  “You must think I’ll do anything for Mini Eggs.”

&nb
sp; “Yes.”

  I grin at him. I don’t know how to explain the way I’m feeling. It’s equal parts terror and contentment. Which makes no sense. I know that.

  “Let me text my moms so they know.”

  “That’s very responsible of you.”

  We walk down Carroll Avenue, and Reid tells me about a new shipment at Bissel. Except I’m having trouble paying attention. To be honest, I’m a little bit obsessed with my hand. And his hand. And the space between our hands. I don’t know if I should swing my arm or clasp my hands or let it hang. Every movement feels weirdly deliberate. It’s a little ridiculous. If you turned me into a pie graph, the obsessed-with-hands part would look like Pac-Man.

  “So, we’re left with the greatest quantity of bubble wrap ever to exist in one room,” he concludes.

  “What about the bubble wrap factory?”

  “We have surpassed even the bubble wrap factory.”

  I pantomime pinching a bubble between my fingers. Pop.

  “Pop,” Reid says. I look at him, and he’s smiling.

  We walk right past Cassie—I don’t even notice her until she calls out to me. She’s on a bench with Mina and Olivia, and they’re all holding cups of gelato with tiny plastic spoons. Cassie’s legs are tucked up cross-legged. “Hey! Where are you guys going?”

  “I tricked Molly into helping me work,” Reid says.

  “No, I tricked him into thinking he tricked me.”

  Mina giggles, and Cassie rolls her eyes, but not in a mean way.

  “Have you guys met each other?” I say. “Olivia, Reid.”

  “Hey.” Reid smiles at Olivia, and she smiles back. I feel almost apprehensive. Maybe it’s the particular way he’s smiling, or the way her cheeks have gone pink.

  “Wow. I love your shirt,” Olivia says.

  Reid looks delighted. “Wait, are you into Game of Thrones?”

  “Am I into Game of Thrones?” she asks incredulously. “Am I a human being with a beating heart?”

  “Yes!” Reid pumps his fist.

  And my twist of dread turns into a tidal wave of panic. Because I’ve already seen this exact kind of moment unfold. At the 9:30 Club. With Cassie and Mina, and Mina’s Georgie James shirt.

  And for the first time in four years, Olivia is single.

  No. No. No.

  I’ve never been someone who gets the urge to hit people. I’m not actually imagining smacking Olivia across the face right now.

  My sweet, faerie-loving, ocean-calm friend Olivia! Who just had her heart broken. By Evan Schulmeister. I think I must be going crazy.

  Because this is Olivia.

  I mean, I can’t be this shitty of a person.

  “We should get down there,” I say quickly, and Reid nods.

  “Okay, well, hey,” Cassie says. “We were thinking about having a sleepover tomorrow night. With us and Will and Max. Do you guys want in?”

  I don’t even have to look at Cassie to know that she’s mortifyingly twinkle-eyed right now. I can hear it in her voice.

  I look up at Reid, and he shrugs. “Okay. Yeah.” He smiles.

  And Olivia smiles, too.

  I can’t tell if the lurch in my stomach is excitement or dread.

  PATTY AND NADINE ARE ALL about the sleepover. I think they’d be twitchy if it was just Mina. I guess they recognize the rest of us for the vag-blockers we are.

  I don’t even think they worry about me around boys. So, that’s a little sad.

  Anyway, Nadine digs out some old sleeping bags from the linen closet, which is essentially an official endorsement. Mina’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your parents are so cool.”

  “So are yours!” says Cassie.

  “Mine are like low-key cool,” Mina says. “Not this cool. Do your parents let you drink?”

  Cassie and I glance at each other. “Not technically,” she says.

  Mina bites her lip. “Should I tell the boys not to bring vodka?”

  “We’ll be discreet.” Cassie grins, and my heart beats faster. I’ve never felt quite so seventeen.

  We carpet Cassie’s floor in sleeping bags. Our entire upstairs used to be an attic, so the rooms aren’t exactly huge. Cassie’s isn’t the biggest, but it feels like it is, because it’s the only room where the ceiling peaks high enough to fit the bunk beds.

  Mina stays for dinner, and Nadine has picked up those giant double-fried Korean chicken wings from Bonchon to impress her. And honestly, I can’t decide if it’s a sweet effort, or if we’re wading into Grandma Betty territory. But Mina laughs it off. “That’s awesome,” she says.

  “Well, we think you’re awesome,” Nadine replies.

  But everyone’s acting awkward. Except Xavier, who’s doing drum solos on his high-chair tray with a plastic spoon. But the rest of us. I can’t explain it.

  “So, who’s coming tonight?” Patty asks. “Olivia . . . ?”

  “And Will and Max and Reid,” Cassie says.

  “That’s a lot of dudes,” Nadine says.

  We’re all silent for a moment.

  “Yes,” Cassie says finally.

  “So, are you guys feeling ready for the wedding?” Mina asks.

  “I think so.” Nadine shrugs. “It’s very casual. We’ve got about thirty-five people coming, so it’s just about making sure we feed everyone.”

  “And we’ll have kosher, gluten-free, vegan, everything,” Patty adds.

  There’s another random silence. I don’t even know why. Maybe we haven’t found our rhythm with Mina.

  “And our nephew is arranging the table and chair rentals,” Patty says.

  “Isaac?” I ask. That’s Abby’s brother, and I’m having trouble picturing him on the phone with a wedding rental facility. He’s ridiculously smart—smart enough to get a full scholarship to Howard. But he loves to party, and not in the way that involves rented Chiavari chairs.

  “He has hidden depths,” Nadine says.

  “Maybe we should have a backup plan.”

  “Right, what’s the plan if it rains?” Mina asks. “My mom was wondering that.” She takes a bite of her chicken wing and puts it down, reaching for her napkin.

  “Our plan is to deny the possibility of rain,” Nadine says. And Xavier bangs his tray loudly, as if to add an exclamation point.

  Everyone comes over after dinner, and I cannot get my mind to simmer down about this. Spending the night in Cassie’s room, with everyone. With Reid. I’m not entirely sure how to navigate this. I’m a certain version of myself when I’m around Reid. And I’m a different version when I’m around Mina’s friends. I’m not good at collisions of worlds. I feel jittery and on edge.

  “This is a cool neighborhood,” Will says. “I’m jealous you can walk to the Metro.”

  “It’s definitely convenient.” Cassie settles in next to Mina on the floor, their backs against the bedframe. Everyone’s leaning against something: Will and Max against the drawers of Cassie’s desk, Olivia against the door, and Reid and me against the wall. We’re all in a rectangle on the outer edges of the floor—but if we stretched our legs out, I think everyone’s feet would touch.

  Will unzips his famous man-purse and pulls out a bottle of vodka—it’s the fancy kind, with frosted glass and a blue top. I have no idea how he gets all this booze. Maybe he has a fake ID. Maybe everyone does except me. I feel like I’m in a movie.

  Cassie has a carton of orange juice from the Co-op, and the first thing she does is pour some into a big plastic cup. That’s Cassie’s favorite hack. If you make enough room, you can mix vodka right into the carton.

  “I’ll drink that,” I say quickly. “I’ll have the plain cup.”

  “Can I share it?” asks Reid, and I smile up at him. I had a feeling he wouldn’t drink.

  But everyone else does, even Olivia. And it’s funny. I never really imagined myself as a person who would go to a boozy slumber party. Or a boozy house party. And definitely not both in one week. But I guess that’s the thing about being seventeen. You nev
er know what you’ll do until you do it.

  “So, guess what I read today,” Cassie says. “Did you know orgasms strengthen your core?”

  “Sweet.” Max pumps his fist.

  Olivia bites her lip. “I’ve never had an orgasm.”

  And here’s the funny thing: when she says it, I actually feel this twinge of envy. Not because she’s never had an orgasm (which, go figure. Evan Schulmeister). I mean, it’s probably obvious that I haven’t either. And lack of orgasms aren’t something to envy. But I wish I were the kind of person who could just admit it out loud.

  “Olivia,” Cassie says. “You are missing out.”

  Does that even need to be said? It’s an orgasm.

  “But I hear it’s like sneezing,” Olivia adds.

  “Orgasms?” Cassie laughs. “Says who?”

  “Says the internet.”

  “Is that why you used to sniff cumin powder all the time?” Cassie asks.

  “Scientific inquiry.”

  Mina giggles. “Olivia, you are so cute.”

  “You know what it’s like?” Cassie says suddenly. She leans back, her arm draped around the bedframe. “It’s like Super Mario Brothers. It’s like when Mario eats the leaf, and then he runs and runs and then he’s flying.” She zips her hand up into the air.

  Will and Max start laughing so hard I think they both might choke. But Olivia looks reflective. “That’s sort of beautiful,” she says.

  “Olivia, that’s not what it’s like. Orgasms are not like video games,” Max says.

  “Oh, okay. You’re the expert. I’m sure you’re the only person in the world who’s ever had one.” Cassie rolls her eyes.

  So, I’m a little freaked out. This whole conversation is making me unravel. Sometimes I think I’m the last virgin left in the entire universe. Everyone else is having incomprehensible amounts of sex. Everyone’s naked and touching and kissing. Except me. I know it’s not true. But that’s how it feels.

  Will chugs his drink with a giant gulp, and immediately refills it. “Don’t you dare get sloppy drunk,” Cassie warns him.